


Blame

by AngieGone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Argent Family, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngieGone/pseuds/AngieGone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Argent overhears a conversation between his daughter and Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this mostly because it was the Argent Family that originally pulled me into Teen Wolf, specifically Chris Argent. The first episode I ever watched was S2E3, in which Chris tells Allison that the sons are made to be soldiers, and the daughters to be leaders. I found the matriarch system of the Argent family extremely fascinating, and quickly fell in love with the characters (even if they are greatly despised by most people hahaha...haha...ha. ) 
> 
> So, I just thought that it was appropriate that my first fic had to do with the characters that opened the doors to this wonderful show to me.
> 
> EDIT: I. Feel. Like. CRAP! I forgot to mention my beta-ers. hollabackgirl here on AO3, and writewithpurpleink on Tumblr.   
> You guys were wonderful and thank you thank you thank you so much <3 <3

He really should have just told the kid to go home. What good would he bring—coming to see his daughter? Standing by the end of the hallway, he watches as Stiles Stilinski greets Allison and asks her if they can speak. Stiles adds a tentative “In private” at the end of the question. The teen glances nervously towards him, as if he’s worried that the hunter will suddenly impose and cut the meeting short. Allison also looks towards her father, pausing for a second before nodding to Stiles and swinging the door open to allow the boy in.

Although he was a human, and barely a danger to Allison, Chris Argent was still wary of the business he had with his daughter. That was mostly due to the people Stiles Stilinski associated with and where his loyalties lied. Stiles had been quite troublesome to the hunters in various occasions. His meddling in werewolf affairs was something Chris had been tiptoeing around since discovering he was an ally to their causes. Being wary around this young man had become instinctive, now even more so because of Allison’s decision to become more involved in her family’s trade. What if Stiles had been brought here as some sort of envoy, trying to get her back to their side? 

No. What was he thinking? This was Allison after all; he trusted her judgment. He needed to. In the end, it would be her making the decisions once she was fit to lead. And as if to reassure these passing thoughts, before walking into her room Allison gave him a comforting look coupled with a light shrug. Yes, he could trust her. 

But he definitely could not trust Stiles. 

Chris had been on the fourth step down when he stopped himself. Frowning, he let out a sigh that sounded too loud against the silent walls of the Argent home. His green eyes glared at Allison’s door. If Stiles had something up his sleeve, Chris had to make sure that Allison would not be compromised. Before he could talk himself out of it, he turned and quietly made his way to his daughter’s door. Leaning against the wall, his ears strained to listen to what Stiles and Allison could be discussing. 

“Who told you?” he heard Allison say. 

“Mrs. McCall mentioned it…she was there. You know, since she works at the—” 

“I know that,” Allison’s voice cut Stiles’ before he could finish, and from her tone Chris guessed that she was becoming quickly irritated, “So Scott told you to come talk to me,” there was an edge of that stubborn condescension she got whenever she became angry. Chris could not blame her, though. At the simple mention of Scott McCall’s name, Chris felt a wave of annoyance and anger rise in him. Just like Stiles, Scott had been nothing but trouble for their family. But Scott was a werewolf, which made it worse. He had never been a particularly bad kid; Chris had maybe even liked him at some point. But the pain he had brought his daughter and his family—along with the likes of Derek Hale and his betas—had been more than enough to make him an enemy. 

A careful audible sigh could be heard from across the door, “No…in fact, he doesn’t even know I’m here.” 

The moment of silence that followed was enough to make Chris start rethinking what exactly Stiles wanted to talk to Allison about. Maybe it was still about the werewolves, but what had Mellissa McCall mentioned to them? Could he have been lying about Scott not knowing he was here just so that Allison would listen to him? But the tone in his voice was almost too serious, at least compared to the other instances Chris had had in the presence of Stiles. The boy was a basket-case of run-on sentences, as well as unusual and pointless information, all messily fitted into a twitchy teenage body. Serious was not a word that Chris would associate with him. If anything, Stiles’ seriousness made him a little confused and extremely uneasy. 

“Not a day goes by…” there was a moment of hesitation in Stiles’ voice, just as Chris was edging closer to hear, “…Not a day goes by when I don’t fear what could happen to my dad. Even if it’s only for a second, I wonder to myself if I’ve really screwed things up for us. All because of what my life has turned out like…this whole Kanima issue we had going on,” Chris heard a frustrated huff from his daughter, “and Derek’s stupid pack, and my best friend turning into a creature popularized by fiction—”

“Stiles, I don’t want to talk about this.” Chris heard the bed shift, as if one of them had stood up. His assumption had been made correct when he heard Allison’s voice a little more clearly, closer to the door, “I seriously do not have time for your jokes,” 

Fearing that Allison would find him standing there, Chris had been about to hide out in the opposite room. But Stiles’ voice halted his daughter’s advance towards the door, as well as Chris’s subsequent flee. “It’s not a joke! Allison, please. Just listen, okay. It already took me long enough to gather up enough courage to talk to you about this,” it had sounded more like a command than a plea. Once again, Chris wondered what it was that Stiles wanted to speak to Allison about. 

Another pause was followed by the sound of the bed shifting. Allison had returned to her seat. Chris had returned to leaning against the wall and listening. 

“I’m not trying to be funny…this is not supposed to be funny, and I know,” his tone had calmed down and taken a melancholy softness, “God, do I know,” those last few words had been hard to register. The boy had whispered them so softly, as if they had been painful to utter. 

“Allison, I don’t know why it happened, and I’m not here because I want to find out. But…you need to know that regardless of how difficult it seems you should not blame yourself for what happened to your mom,” 

Chris’s eyes widened for that moment, and it hit him like a kick to the chest. His breath hitched, forgetting that he was trying to be as quiet as possible. Fingers clenched tightly into fists, as he fought back the urge to burst into the room and force the punk out of his home. But he remained still, knowing that Allison had not moved either. She had not responded with hostility towards Stiles and what he had said, which meant that she was waiting and listening. And so would he. 

“You might tell yourself that you won’t…that whatever happened had nothing to do with you. But believe me, it’ll creep up on you before you even consider it,” there’s another pause, before he continues, “ What if I’d never known that person? What if I’d never been in that place? At that Time? What if I had said something? What if I had done something differently? What if...What if? What if? What if? So many countless and hopeless moments of coulda-shoulda-woulda going through your head, until you drive yourself crazy, and drown in your own guilt.” 

By this time, Stiles’ was straining against the breaks in his voice, straining against showing the weakness and vulnerability behind that odd personality of his he wore like an iron mask. Chris found himself inhaling deeply as soon as it was quiet. Allison, like before, remained silent. Had she forgotten to breathe as well? Was she also listening as intently as Chris found himself doing? 

“And I should know, Allison, I should freaking know. Damn it, I’ve been through it, I still go through it. When my mother died there wasn’t a single day that I spent without blaming myself,” Stiles seemed to compose himself slowly, taking a deep breath before continuing, “So putting aside everything that has happened lately…I want you to know that I’m here for you. No one should go through this alone. I won't let you go through this on your own…”

Chris brought his hand up to rub away the stinging feeling in his eyes, letting it slowly fall down across his face, stopping just over his lips. The next few minutes all Chris could hear were quiet words being spoken, a break in his daughter’s voice, followed by soft sobs and Stiles’ comforting.

About a half-hour after, when Stiles made his way down the stairs, the teen found Chris sitting quietly in the living room couch. His face was turned away from Stiles and neither could see each other’s expressions. In a way, Chris was grateful for this, and for some reason, he felt like Stiles must have been as well. 

“Have a good evening Mr. Argent,” Stiles’ voice was hesitant and almost unsure, just as it had been when he had asked to speak with Allison earlier. Even still, the boy was wary around the man who was a mortal threat to his best friend. 

Chris only replies with a gentle nod, and a wave of his hand. Not long after he hears the muffled roar of the boy’s Jeep, before it rolls out of their driveway and the sounds disappear. Chris returns to the silence of his home. 

And him? What about Chris? This child who seemed to know so much, what would he have said to Chris Argent? What words would he have chosen to steer him away from the blame-game? If he could not blame himself, then who was at fault? He had lost his sister. He had lost his wife. His father was gone, and presumably dead. And all because of the kind of creatures that Stiles Stilinski protected and surrounded himself with. Would he tell Chris that it was not the werewolves’ fault then? Kate’s throat ripped to shreds; Victoria’s soul turned to one of them; His father’s mind driven insane by the promise of power and strength. Yet this boy protected them, and there was a time when Allison would have as well. But whom else could he blame if not them? 

What was the point though? No matter whom he blamed, no matter whom he sought revenge from; it would not bring any of them back. It would also not change the fact that Kate and Gerard had been thinking radically, harming the wolves for their own personal gain. From what he had encountered with his father, revenge could drive you mad. Kate had murdered innocent people, had destroyed an entire family (that simple thought reminded Chris that Derek Hale was just as alone, that he had to face this same darkness as well). And Victoria…well, he was not sure what to think of Victoria at this point. In fact, he still was not ready to bury himself in that sorrow. 

A distraction was what he needed the most, and that was what he found out by the trail, with his crossbow and a quiver of practice arrows in tow. He pointed, aimed, and fired. Shot, after shot, after shot. The numbness of such a menial and instinctive task cleared his mind from those dreadful thoughts. Yet with every shot he took, he began seeing their faces. The betas. Jackson Whittemore. Scott McCall. Derek Hale. One after the other, until he had become so angry and fired that re-loading was a blur before the next arrow was being shot. 

Chris had lost count by the time that he felt a hand grip his shoulder. The sudden contact was enough to make him jump and look back, as well as break the trance he had fallen into. Standing behind him was Allison. Her eyes were rimmed red, and her face was pale yet darkened by the shadows. 

“What time is it?” he asked as he looked around blankly. Chris had come out to the trail before sunset. It was definitely past sunset then, the stars just coming out and blinking in the dark blue sky above. 

She did not respond to his question, but when Allison spoke her voice sounded so young and small. How long had it been since he had seen his daughter look like this? Yet the words seemed so much older. 

“You’ve been crying.” 

Chris blinked and brought a hand up to his cheeks. He did feel traces of dried tears, and his eyes were heavy and itching. Looking at his daughter, he gave her a ghost of a smile, “So have you,” was all he could respond with. 

There was a moment of silence among the two, and Chris could have gone mad if the quiet had lasted. He was so sick of the quiet, of the silence, all around him. But his Allison spoke, even if just a word. 

“Daddy…” her voice choked, and before he could stop it their arms are around each other. The embrace seems tighter than any he had ever felt before. Chris holds her so tightly, he’s afraid he might break her, but she is holding just as firmly. 

Neither of them dared to let go. It was almost as if they were afraid that once they did everything that had happened would come back to break them apart. But for that single moment there were no wolves, there were no monsters in the night, they were not hunters. Chris and Allison Argent were merely father and daughter, praying that whatever was to come they would be able to face together. And even Stiles. That foolish boy, who Chris was not so sure whether he could trust him so far. Yet, he had had the courage to face a man who could harm those dearest to him and all for the sake of his daughter’s well-being. 

It did not matter who was to blame at that moment. It did not matter if he could have done things differently for his family. All that matter was that he had his beautiful daughter in his arms, and that he could hear her words among the quiet. 

“I’m here dad….I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it :>


End file.
